“Le Havre is the Liverpool of France.” – Elliott Murphy
There are two fine cities within the Hexagone (how the French often refer to their country due to its distinctive six-sided shape) that I can say I know both intimately and affectionately. The first, of course, being Paris, the Capital (how French men and women sometimes refer to the home of two world-renowned edifices – the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame) due to its being the geographic hub of nearly everything that matters in this country, politically, economically and culturally (imagine New York, Washington CD and Los Angeles all rolled into one) and where I have lived, loved and prospered these past thirty-seven years. And the second being the old port city of Le Havre, about 180 km (or 120 miles) northwest from Paris at the mouth of the Seine on the English Channel, a city of 170,000 proud Normands (1) and a community with a lot of soulful souls I like to call the Liverpool of France because of its undeniable rock ‘n’ roll heritage as back in the 50’s and 60’s local sailors would bring first rhythm and blues and later rock records back from America when they returned from their ocean voyages ready to dance on solid ground to the latest sounds from the new world.
Le Havre was founded in 1517 by French King Francis I, who was also the patron of supreme multi-tasker Leonardo Da Vinci who in my opinion was the David Bowie of his day (I know this is a stretch). Apparently, Francis thought it wise to expand a sleepy fishing village into a heavily guarded harbor town so that the next wave of those nasty Vikings entering the Seine river on their way to the capital of wine, women and pillaging could be discouraged before reaching Paris.